


Jack and Eric

by maiNuoire



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Names are important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack and Eric

**Author's Note:**

> So, along with my “Coach” feels, I am having a general emotions about the importance and significance of names in Check, Please. I may or may not turn these into a whole fic/verse, with fleshed out story and stuff? I guess that depends on how y’all feel about it?

Names are important. Jack has always just been _Jack_ to the Samwell team, because nicknames were never really his thing.

He grew up as _Bad Bob_ ’s son, and briefly, he was _Zimms_ , but after the overdose, after Kent and rehab and actually feeling recovered, nicknames didn’t feel right.

So he rejected attempt after attempt to twist and shorten his name, until Shitty gave up and just called him Jack. And it felt _good_. It felt good to just be Jack for those years, as he settled into his skin, figured out how to be Jack. He liked being Jack, _just_ Jack. He liked how his name sounded announced over the speakers in Faber, chanted by fans and teammates at games or kegsters. He liked how it sounded in a gentle, Georgian drawl.

Now, Jack’s new teammates have picked up _Zimmboni_ , which is admittedly clever, if ridiculous, and Jack is surprisingly okay with it. It feels like acceptance, like a _welcome to the team_. Like he’ll be able to find a home here, with the Falcs.

And then, there’s the things Bitty calls him now. _Honey_ , and _sweetheart_ , full of fondness and sunshine that makes Jack feel warm and loved. _Baby_ , whispered or gasped into his ear, Bitty’s long fingers cradling his face and one strong arm draped over his shoulder, the hot, silky feel of Bitty’s skin under his fingertips as they rock together. And still, _Jack,_ always said with a soft smile, even when it’s from underneath him, with warm, brown eyes looking up at him full of love, or heat, or sleepy affection.

Jack has never been particularly religious, but nothing has ever sounded so much like a prayer as the way Bitty says his name in the quiet hours between late and early, when the first tendrils of misty grey light are sneaking between the curtains and painting the oversized bed and the blond boy inn it with him with a watery glow. The way those soft, pink lips caress the shape of Jack’s name, full of reverence and adoration, sends sparks of heat and a shiver up his spine. Bitty’s mouth wrapping around those four letters is an almost physical sensation, and it’s the best thing Jack has ever felt.

Names are important, and Jack has never been called so many different things that all mean the same thing. That all mean he’s _loved_ and _wanted_ in so many different ways.

He’s never been so happy to be Jack Zimmermann.

__X__

Thinking about names makes Jack think about Bitty. Honestly, most things makes Jack think about the blond, southern man, but. Names are important.

When Eric R. Bittle first arrived at the Haus and into Jack’s life, Jack was in a weird place. The start of his junior year brought with it chatter about his potential choice of teams, and a whole heap of anxiety about drafts and decisions and the need to be _the best_ on the ice. So, he was… less than welcoming.

He kept Bitty at a distance, let his drive to succeed cloud his judgement and deemed the other man lacking before he’d even seen him play. He called him “Bittle,” even after the rest of the boys had shortened his name into an acceptable nickname, tossing “Bitty" around like the welcome it was. He used it, at first, to keep that cool distance, and then, after half a season and regular checking practice brought them to a place where they were friends, he used Bittle because no one else did. He used it the way everyone else used “Bits,” a soft, fond acknowledgement.

And if he occasionally resented how Bitty would smile at the shortened endearment, he could ignore it, because no one else had _Bittle_ ; no one but Jack. Eventually, he was able to pull those bright, sunshiny smiles from the boy with his own brand of sentiment, though the first time he called Eric _Bitty_ to his face, graduation day, (and the fact that the first time he’d said it out loud was when Bitty had been hurt, another extreme emotional moment, was not lost on him upon later reflection), the little gasp he’d drawn from Bitty’s lips just before he’d pressed his own against them made him determined to use every version of the other man’s name possible, just to keep that shocked, pleased expression on his face.

Now that they’re together, Jack wants more than almost anything to be able to call his boyfriend soft, warm pet names. But _honey,_ and _sweetheart_ don’t come as easily to his lips as they come to Bitty’s. And he’s half convinced if he started calling him sweetheart, he wouldn’t be able to stop, to keep himself from using it when Bitty comes to games, or they’re hanging out with the team. He wants so badly to wrap Bitty up in the warmth he feels with every drawled _honey_ , and he wants it to be something that’s just theirs the way that Bittle was.

Jack isn’t sure why, but it occurs to him that there’s one thing he’s never called Bitty that no one else does either. _Eric._ Jack practices saying the name with different tones and inflections, and it’s when the thought of calling Bitty “Eric” when they next speak makes him smile around the sound of it that Jack knows he’s found his _sweetheart_.

They have a Skype date scheduled, and when it connects and Bitty smiles at him and says “Hi, honey,” in that sweet, warm way he has that settles over Jack’s shoulders like an embrace that Jack can’t help but sigh out a happy “ _Eric_ ,” that’s full of love and relief and joy for the man smiling at him on the screen.

Eric inhales a little sharply, and his face lights up in that way that makes Jack itch for his camera, for the feel of the flush on Eric’s face under his fingertips. “You- you’ve never called me that before,” Bitty’s voice is thick with emotion, and Jack hopes his intention with the name is obvious, he’s not sure he can explain it.

“Is it alright, _Eric_ ,” he laces the name with every bit of warmth and affection he feels, and the flutter of his heart matches the flutter of Bitty’s eyes as he blinks rapidly several times, his hand reaching up to rest over his own heart, which seems to calm Jack’s. It might be the artificial quality the computer imparts, but Jack thinks Bitty’s eyes look shiny, and Jack knows he’s heard the _honey_ in the name.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bitty says through a smile, “I like it just fine the way you say it.”

Names are important, and Jack is sure to slip Eric into conversation whenever he can, especially when they’re with the Wellies, a simple reassurance that Jack is grateful for all Bitty’s given up for him. The first time, it gets a strange look from Shitty and a raised eyebrow from Lardo, Ransom and Holster crow “Eric?” until a sharp look from Lardo and Shitty silences them. The newer kids on the team seem surprised that Bitty has a first name, and are generally too in awe of Jack’s presence to think anything of it.

But Bitty _beams_. He shines with the same warmth Jack feels when Bitty says his name, and that makes Jack proud in a way only a well played game ever has.

He still use _Bitty,_ of course, and _Bits_ has become a favorite way to tease the other man; a gentle chirp, a way to flirt and sigh his name without being too obvious. But nothing sounds quite so right as _Eric_. Nothing else carries the weight  ****of Jack’s feelings, the sincerity and absoluteness of his affection, the way it does.

And the way that _Eric_ feels, rolling off his tongue in a hushed shout while Bitty moans softly around _Jack_?  It’s enough to make them both forget their own names for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography)!


End file.
